Let there be From breath to breath from dusk to dusk let there be rainfall when the soil is parched as rock let there be sunshine when the barley bends to be cut let there be rainbows when the days are short of light let there be wind when our boats are turned for home.…
This morning as my eyes blink open it occurs to me as if for the first time what you, miracle body, have been up to All night long, while I let go you pumped blood through veins to fingertips and toes grew cells and eyelashes and nails inhaled and exhaled countless times all this while…
I’ve lost: Three hours of work on the last chapter Friends I thought I had for life The golden cross pendant my godmother gave me Faith in God Frequently, my equanimity I almost lost: The way out of the woods My passport and smartphone at the Dutch tulip show My virginity before I was ready…
When I consider how in this world all is falling blossom – what then must become of this self? This world – strung jewels of dew on the frail thread a spider spins by Saigyō, translated by Meredith McKinney I find these poems so incredibly potent. In a few words the…
She who reconciles the ill-matched threads of her life, and weaves them gratefully into a single cloth— it’s she who drives the loudmouths from the hall and clears it for a different celebration where the one guest is you. In the softness of evening it’s you she receives. You are the partner of her loneliness,…
Once, I ran from fear so fear controlled me. Until I learned to hold fear like a newborn. Listen to it, but not give in. Honor it, but not worship it. Fear could not stop me anymore. I walked with courage into the storm. I still have fear, but it does not have me. Once,…
And a woman spoke, saying, Tell us of Pain. And he said: Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding. Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain. And could you keep your heart in wonder at…
Come with me now, along the beckoning path, silvered in mist toward the glimmering lake, bring every grief you have not said and every tear you have not shed and every sorrow you’ve carried alone. ‘There is a door beneath everything we’ll walk right by if we don’t stop to look with our troubled hearts…
Finally on my way to yes I bump into all the places where I said no to my life all the untended wounds the red and purple scars those hieroglyphs of pain carved into my skin, my bones, those coded messages that send me down the wrong street again and again where I find them…